


Difference Is Excuse Enough

by TMar



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gay Bashing, Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMar/pseuds/TMar
Summary: A pre-Immortal is killed by gay bashers and found by Duncan MacLeod. He wants to take revenge.





	Difference Is Excuse Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about 1994, after Tessa died in season 2 but before Joe became a main character. Imagine my surprise when the episode "Take Back the Night" in season 3 used the same plot!

DIFFERENCE IS EXCUSE ENOUGH

"What I do know is that because you were born different,   
men will fear you, try to drive you away..."  
\- Juan Sanchez Villa Lobos Ramirez to Connor MacLeod;   
Highlander (the first movie)

It was still early when Scott and Jonathan decided to call it a  
night and go home. They'd had enough of socializing for one evening,  
and sometimes it was more fun to vegetate in front of the TV for a  
while. Channel-hop and discover what new stuff the networks had  
dreamt up. Watch the occasional good bad movie. In other words, the  
usual. But this night would not be usual for either of them.

The five teenage boys watching as they turned into a quiet side-  
street weren't interested in anything usual at all; in fact they  
seemed fascinated by the unusual; by things they did not understand  
and therefore did not like. Things they therefore hated. "I don't  
like them, you know?" whispered one to the others as Scott and  
Jonathan walked past. "Why can't they just go away? Everywhere you  
go, they're there."

"We can't do anything about it, Ross," said another.

"Who says? I have my sports stuff in the car. And stuff for fixing  
tyres. We could get rid of a few for the city, no charge."

"You've been drinking," said the third teen.

"Yeah, and so have you. You wanna do it, don't you? You don't like  
them any more than I do."

"No, but..."

"Who's with me?"

Two of the five teens were. As the others slunk off into the  
darkness, Ross and his two cronies fetched what they'd need.

It was only when the three teenagers were right behind them that  
the pair walking along the sidewalk noticed, and by then it was too  
late.

***

Duncan MacLeod, taking a slow drive back to the dojo, felt...  
something. He'd felt it before and knew he'd probably feel it again:  
someone had just become an Immortal. 

He slowed the car, just in time to see three teenage boys,  
wielding various weapons, run off. He skidded to a halt and jumped  
out. There was blood all over the sidewalk, and backed against a shop  
window, two bodies. Duncan knelt down looked them over, then in the  
direction the teenagers had gone. Then at the bar just a little  
further up the street. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his  
hair, not saying a word. He knew there wasn't anything he could say,  
he could only wait for one of them to wake up.

***

Jonathan opened his eyes and sat up, the remnant of a scream breaking  
free. Then he saw Duncan, kneeling over him, and backed away.  
"Please!" he said. "Please!"

"I'm not here to hurt you," said Duncan, knowing how it must  
sound, knowing how it _did_ sound, to any new Immortal.

"You're..." began Jonathan, who stopped and looked around.  
"Scott!" He lifted Scott's body from the sidewalk. "Oh, my God.  
Scott!" He looked from Scott to Duncan and back. "He's not breathing!  
Help me!"

"It's too late," Duncan informed him. "He was dead when I got  
here."

Jonathan didn't say anything, he merely held on, rocking back and  
forth, never once taking his eyes off Duncan.

"I know how you feel," Duncan began, "but you can't stay here. We  
have to..."

"Leave me alone, please." It was a whisper, as in the distance  
sirens blared.

"Someone must have called the police. Do you realise that you're  
okay?"

Jonathan looked down at himself. "There's blood all over me.  
Scott's blood!" He held Scott tighter, and finally started to cry.

Duncan knew what the man was going through, but he also knew that  
he couldn't leave. "Some of it is yours. You were hurt, too."

"I don't care. Just leave me alone."

Duncan got up as he saw the police car and ambulance arrive; but  
he didn't leave.

***

Sergeant Bennett looked at Duncan disapprovingly. "You bother me for  
weeks on end, then you disappear for a year, then you appear again.  
And what a surprise, at the scene of a murder."

"Look, Sergeant. I was the first one to arrive. I told you. I saw  
three people - they looked like teenagers - running from the scene.  
I stopped, but it was too late."

"Why are you interested, MacLeod? Are either of these guys friends  
of yours?" 

"No," said Duncan emphatically. "I told you. I was just driving  
past."

"But you say you have to speak to the survivor."

"I just wanna find out if he's okay."

"Oh, he's fine, and considering what they did to his lover, I'm  
surprised he isn't dead too."

"Did he give his statement?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then, can I see him?"

"MacLeod, you're trying to give me an ulcer, I know it." Bennett  
sighed. "All right." He motioned to a uniformed police officer, who  
opened the door to admit Jonathan. 

"Alone," said Mac.

"You're trying my patience."

"Sorry."

The cops went out, and Jonathan, still wearing his bloodied  
clothes, now turned a hostile look on Duncan. "What's your interest  
in this? Haven't seen a lot of gay lifestyles on TV? Wanted to be in  
on the action?"

"No," responded Mac softly. "I'm here to offer my help. Because  
believe me, you're gonna need it."

"Why?"

"First, we get you out of here. Then we pick up some of your  
clothes. It'll be better if you stay at the dojo for a while."

"Is this some sort of come-on?"

Duncan lost his patience. "I'm trying to help you! You'll need it,  
and I'm the only one who can, at least for now. Now, you can come  
with me, or you can leave."

Jonathan felt uncomfortable whenever Duncan was around, and he  
didn't want to be near him, but he also - inexplicably - knew that  
Duncan was telling the truth. "All right."

***

In Duncan's loft, Jonathan suddenly started to feel afraid. "Here,  
drink this," said Duncan, handing him a glass. 

"What is it?"

"Don't argue, just drink it."

Jonathan obeyed. "Scott is dead, and I'm sitting here drinking  
this, and listening to you, and Scott is dead!"

"Don't you wonder why he's dead and you aren't?"

"I was lucky."

"No, you weren't. You died too."

Jonathan put down the glass. "You're crazy. I'm not listening to  
this."

"You died, and you came back. You're Immortal."

"That's your answer? The man I love just died and you're telling  
me fairy tales!"

"You know that feeling you get whenever I'm near?"

"Yeah?"

"That's the buzz given off by our Quickenings interacting. You'll  
only feel that when another Immortal is near. I'm one of them, and  
you just became one."

"When?"

"When you were killed!" Duncan paced the loft. "Now, I'm going to  
tell you this all at once, so listen. You're an Immortal. You cannot  
be killed unless your head is severed from your body. Other Immortals  
are going to come and try to do just that, and you'll have to fight  
to stay alive. We've been fighting for millennia, waiting for the  
Gathering to arrive."

Jonathan didn't say anything, but the look on his face told Duncan  
that he didn't believe a word of it. "I know it sounds crazy, but  
we're involved in the Game. The last Immortal left will have the  
power of all the Immortals who ever lived. In the end there can be  
only one. Only one, do you understand? People are going to come and  
try to kill you to get your Quickening."

"So why haven't you cut my head off yet, then?"

"Because, along with Immortals like me, there are some Immortals  
who'd use the power they'd gain to make mortal men suffer. And they'd  
suffer an eternity of darkness if that happened!"

"This is too crazy!" said Jonathan. "It has to be untrue!"

"It..." began Duncan, but stopped. He looked around, and so did  
Jonathan. 

"I feel..." Jonathan began.

"I know."

Just then, Richie skidded in. There was a bullet hole in his  
sleeve and two in the back of his shirt. "Mac!" He stopped when he  
saw Jonathan. "Oh, sorry."

"It's all right. Richie, this is Jonathan."

"Hi," said Richie. "Uh, Mac, we need to talk."

"We can talk here. Jonathan's learning about being Immortal."

Richie looked at Jonathan again, then back at Duncan. "Well,  
anyway, I saved two people during a bank robbery downtown!"

"You got shot," said Duncan.

"Yeah, but nobody saw."

"Richie, there are holes the size of the Grand Canyon in your  
shirt!"

"I put a jacket on, Mac, it's no big deal."

"Yeah, okay. Did they get the robbers?"

"Well..."

"Richie..."

"Well, I kinda... tackled one of them."

Duncan merely rolled his eyes and said nothing; Richie would  
always be impulsive. "Is everyone okay?"

"Sure, I told you."

"Don't you have to finish up downstairs?" Duncan said sharply,  
jolting Richie away from his tale. It wasn't like some of his  
adventures, but Duncan knew how good it felt to do something for the  
mortals in this world. Richie nodded. 

"Yeah, I guess."

"Change shirts first," yelled Duncan as Richie pulled down the  
elevator gate. He turned to Jonathan. "Richie became Immortal last  
year. I helped him, and I'll help you if you want."

Jonathan merely nodded. "I felt strange when he came in, and  
before, when I met you - is that the buzz from the Quickening?"

"Yes."

"Oh, God." Jonathan held his head in his hands. "Either I'm going  
crazy, or it's the truth."

"It's the truth all right." Mac went across the loft and came back  
holding a sword.

Jonathan said nothing, he only took it as he looked up at MacLeod,  
burying his hurt and grief deep inside. He had to learn to defend  
himself; fine. When he'd finished here, he'd go out and find the  
people who had killed Scott. And he'd make them pay. After that...  
who knew. 

***

"Okay, try it again," said Duncan as they practised in the dojo.  
"Better. You're improving."

"Mac?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you help me?"

Duncan lowered his katana. "The million dollar question. Would you  
believe me if I told you that I care about our kind? We have to look after each other or we'll be easy pickings for the head-hunters."

"Yes, I would. But you haven't said anything... I mean, about how  
Scott... about how we died."

"What's to say?" Duncan had, after all, been around for 400 years.  
And in 400 years you saw everything there was to see.

"You don't have anything to say?"

"Not really. All I want is to prepare you so that you don't lose  
your head."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. Okay, next lesson..."

***

Richie hadn't seen Duncan since the day he'd been shot, since he'd  
gone away for two weeks almost right away. But when he came back to  
find Jonathan and Duncan sparring in the dojo, it was a surprise.  
"Another protege, Mac?" he asked when they were alone.

"No. A student."

"You said he'd just become Immortal. How?"

"He was... attacked... down by the west side. Along with another  
man, who died."

"Attacked? Why?"

"Because he's gay."

"You're kidding!" Somehow, something like that had never occurred  
to Richie. It should have, of course, but Richie had only been eighteen when he became Immortal. "And you just... brought him here?"

"He had no one else to teach him. I taught you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but Mac..." Richie stopped. "That was different. I mean,  
I met you before I became an Immortal."

"Do you think that changes anything? I knew what you were."

"Still, Mac..."

"Did you think only straight people got the privilege of being  
Immortal? Only the cream of society? What about Ursa? Insane  
Immortals? Huh?" As he said it, Duncan's voice rose.

"Well, I didn't really think about it, Mac."

"Think about it!" said Duncan vehemently. "And then stop thinking,  
because you are going to be Jonathan's sparring partner."

"Come on, Mac. I'm not sure if I'm really good enough... Also, I didn't know  
any... well..."  
"Richie, the Hunters hunt us. Why?"

Even before he answered, Richie knew that he'd lost the argument.  
"They don't like us."

"Why?"

"Because we're Immortal."

"Which means?"

"We live forever, or almost."

"Which means?"

"We're different!"

Duncan turned to leave. "Exactly."

***

"Have the police found anything yet?" Duncan asked Jonathan, who had  
just put down the phone.

"No. They keep giving me the usual song and dance: they're still  
investigating, their leads went cold, a better description would help..."

"I know how you feel," said Duncan.

Jonathan gave Duncan the 'Rubbish, you don't have any idea' look,  
and this time the highlander was not going to ignore it. 

"Do you think you're the only person who lost someone to something  
like this?" he asked. "Do you? Because you're sadly mistaken! I've  
lost people too. More than once! And the pain *never* goes away! All  
you can do is learn to live with it."

"Look, I'm sorry," said Jonathan, "I assumed..."

"I don't care what you assumed. Don't make any assumptions in the  
future." He stormed out, just as Richie was coming in. 

"Mac...?" Richie turned to Jonathan. "Where'd Mac go?"

"I don't know, we kinda had an altercation."

"Oh." Richie turned to leave, but Jonathan stopped him. 

"Richie, can I ask you about him?"

"Who?"

"Duncan MacLeod, of course."

"Uh... I guess."

"Who has he lost in his life?"

Richie looked away, remembering Tessa. The pain would never go  
away for him, either. "I know he lost people before I came on the  
scene, but I think he loved her the most. Her name was Tessa." Richie  
smiled as he explained. "She was an artist. They had an antique store  
that they ran. They took me in two years ago, after I broke into the  
store. Last year... we were both killed. Except I came back, and she  
didn't."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Yeah, well... Duncan still hurts, and I think he always will. He  
told me how he found you, holding... er... Scott? That's how I found  
him, too."

"You don't like me, do you?" Jonathan asked. It was a rather  
sudden - not to mention blunt - question.

"Geez, I dunno. I never thought about it much. I guess if Mac  
likes you then you must be okay."

"You know what I mean."

"I never thought about it," said Richie, heading for the elevator.

***

But when Richie did think about it, he realised the one reason why  
he didn't like Jonathan: he was jealous. Sure, he had his own life  
and everything, but he'd always felt... like Duncan's special pupil.  
And now Duncan had another pupil, and he felt left out. Kind of like  
a child who gets jealous when a sibling is born. Realising this  
surprised Richie, but he was also relieved by it. 

He got up from his work, got in the elevator and went back to the  
loft. To apologise.

***

"Why are you sorry?" Jonathan asked. "You haven't done anything."  
"No, you were right - I didn't like you. But it wasn't for the  
reason you thought it was."

Richie waited, but Jonathan just stared back at him, so he  
continued. "I was jealous. I dunno... Duncan's been kind of a father-  
figure to me... a, a mentor. And I didn't like the idea of losing  
that to someone else. I'm sorry."

Jonathan smiled. "So, you wanna go and practise?"

"Why not," replied Richie.

***

They had just finished when the phone rang and Richie answered. "It's  
for you; I think it's the cops," he said, giving the phone to Jonathan.

Jonathan listened for a minute then said, "Can I bring a friend?"

The answer must have been yes, because he then put down the phone  
and turned to Richie. "Will you come with me?"

"Sure."

***

It was to attend a line-up; apparently someone else *had* seen  
something, and managed to point the perpetrator out to the cops. The  
police officer - not Sergeant Bennett this time - explained what would  
happen, and what to do, then called for the suspects to be brought in.

Jonathan looked at each of them, going back to that night. But  
something got in his way when he tried to remember: all he could see  
was his blood, and Scott's, all over the sidewalk. And Scott lying  
there and not moving. And Duncan standing over him, trying to help -   
as Jonathan now knew. And Scott again, lying in that bloody puddle,  
not moving. 

"You okay?" asked Richie, just as the officer was saying, "Take  
your time."

"Yeah, yeah, I think so... I can't... I can't see faces. I can't  
remember!"

"Well, did they say anything? You didn't mention it before, but  
that might help, if we got them to repeat something that might have  
been said."

"I don't think so, I can't remember."

"Can you wait outside for a minute?" Richie suddenly said to the cop.

"Sure."

When he was gone, Richie turned to Jonathan. "If you can't  
remember, the guy walks. He killed Scott - and you, as well."

"I don't remember, Richie! I don't, and it won't come!"

"Go back to before you were attacked, then. Try to reconstruct it  
in your mind. Try that."

Jonathan remembered walking along the sidewalk, talking... about  
something inconsequential - but why, then, did he remember it so  
clearly? He'd been complaining about having to feed his step-sister's  
fish, so they'd better go buy some food for the thing before it died  
and he had to buy her yet another one... 

Scott had asked why his parents always asked him when they *knew*   
he killed the things; he'd been about to say that he thought they were   
hoping one day he'd kill them and not buy replacements any more... 

Then something had hit him from the back.

He'd fallen down, then turned around, and looked up... straight into  
the faces of the three teenage boys.

"It's him!" Jonathan said, pointing to the fifth suspect.

Richie called the cop back in.

"You're *sure*?"

"Yeah. He was with two others. I remember their faces."

"Now we can charge him."

"What happens next?" asked Richie, who, having been through the  
justice system, knew that offenders were not always punished.

"Well, once he's charged we have to get him arraigned, he might  
get bail, then a wait for a trial date..."

"Wait a minute." Jonathan's breathing accelerated; he couldn't  
believe what he was hearing. "You're telling me that he killed  
someone and he'll be back on the street?"

"We'll ask for a high bail, but, yeah, he might end up back on the  
street. He's a juvenile offender."

Jonathan stormed out of the room, and Richie turned to the  
policeman. "I hope you people make sure that doesn't happen." Then  
he ran after Jonathan.

***

"If they let him out I'm going to kill him." It was a statement;  
Richie could hear it.

"Now, wait a minute..."

Jonathan grabbed Richie by the shirt. "If he gets out I'm going  
to kill him, I swear!"

"That won't bring Scott back!" Richie yelled at him, aware of a  
gathering crowd outside the police station.

"No, it won't. But it'll be justice and you know it."

"It'll be revenge!" retorted Richie. "And you know that."

Jonathan suddenly seemed to calm down, but in reality he had just  
become more determined. He let go of Richie and walked off in  
silence.

***

"He *will* kill him, Mac, I know it."

"I can't blame him, but we have to stop him."

"How? The guy's still in jail, at least for now. But when he gets  
out Jonathan'll be waiting. And he will do it."

"Well," Duncan reached for his jacket, "we'd better find him, then."

"I think he'll go back to where Scott was murdered."  
"Yeah, you're probably right. Let's go."

***

They found Jonathan sitting on the sidewalk where he and Scott had  
been attacked. He didn't show any surprise when their Quickenings  
collided; it was as if he'd expected this.

Duncan sat down next to him. "You know that killing him would be  
wrong."

"I know that killing him would make me feel better, and let Scott  
rest easier."

"You also know it's wrong," Duncan persisted. Jonathan looked down, but Duncan said sharply, "Look at me!"

Jonathan did. 

"Now, you listen," said MacLeod. "He's a mortal. He has a limited life, and no matter what he's done, you cannot dispense justice like this. Let the justice system decide."

"When we get to trail, which could take years. And do you think  
the jury will care when they find out why Scott and I were attacked?  
Some of them will think he performed a public service, and you know  
that."

"We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

"Sure you will."

Richie was standing on the sidewalk, trying rather unsuccessfully  
to melt into the wall. He didn't want to be here in this place, or  
rather he didn't want to be seen here. Duncan didn't have patience  
for that. "We'll help, won't we, Richie?"

"Uh... yeah, sure."

Duncan looked back at Jonathan. "Can we wait and see what happens  
when he's arraigned? Please?"

"All right."

"Good. Let's go back to the dojo, okay?"

"Okay."

***

Later, when MacLeod and Richie were alone, Richie gave his opinion.  
"If that guy gets off, Mac, Jonathan will kill him."

"I know."

"Well, what can we do?"

"Other than tying him up or taking his head, not much, since  
talking doesn't seem to help."

"You really do understand, don't you, Mac?"

"Of course I do. It happened to me."

"Tessa," observed Richie.

"And... others. Only that time, it was an Immortal who killed  
them. And I took his head. It isn't fair to take the head of a  
mortal. The mortals have their code of justice and we have ours."

"But Jonathan isn't a mortal."

"No, but the person he wants to avenge was, and so are the guilty  
ones."

"I understand, Mac, but it won't make any difference to him."

***

Richie was right, of course. Two days later the phone rang, and the  
police informed Jonathan that the culprit had refused to name his  
accomplices, and that he had been given bail. 

Jonathan grabbed his sword - he didn't have a gun - and rushed  
from the dojo. He had to go past Richie, however, and Richie rushed  
out after him, just as Duncan drove up.

"Mac!"

"I thought I saw you..." began Duncan.

"He took my motorcycle! I think the cops must have called."

"And let me guess, the guy's out."

"Must be."

They screeched off down the road, Duncan asking Richie if he knew  
where Jonathan was headed. "We know the attacker's name, so I guess  
finding out his address wouldn't have been too hard."

"Do you know?"

"Yeah." 

Duncan and Richie were right - for Jonathan, finding out the  
teenager's address had been easy. So would justice be, this time.

***

The teen was sitting in his living room when there was a sharp crack  
and the door was smashed open. And into the room came an averge  
looking guy with a not-so-average-looking sword.

He jumped up. "Uh..." was all he managed to get out before  
Jonathan grabbed him by the throat and smashed him up against the  
wall.

"Where're the others ?" Jonathan asked.

"Wh...what othe... others?"

"The other murderers!" Jonathan squeezed tighter. "You killed  
Scott, and you're going to die!"

"No, please..."

Jonathan held his sword to the guy's neck. "Now, you call up your  
friends and get them here."

The teen had no choice. He dialled the number. "Ross? How soon can  
you get here? And bring Mark."

***

When Duncan and Richie rushed into the house, Jonathan was holding  
all three teens. Their faces were full of abject terror; they looked  
as if they knew Jonathan was going to kill them.

"Don't come any closer, Mac," said Jonathan.

Duncan walked forward, pulling out his sword. Richie stood in the  
background, still hiding his. "You know this is wrong," said Duncan  
for what felt like the twentieth time. But he'd say it fifty times,  
or until Jonathan listened.

"They killed him!" Jonathan's voice cracked. "They killed him, and  
you want me to let them get away with it!"

The teenagers were too frightened to say anything; they merely  
stared at the three Immortals in silence.

Jonathan lifted his sword, but Duncan leaped across the room and  
parried it. "No!"

"Please, Mac."

"No. We're going to have a little talk with these three first  
before you decide to kill them." He looked at the first teenager.  
"What's your name?"

"Uh... Kevin."

"Why'd you do it, Kevin?"

"Look, we... we were just trying... we... we didn't like them, so..."

"Them who?"

"Them. You."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Duncan got that goofy  
grin on his face; the one he *always* got on his face when someone  
was behaving in a stupid fashion and was about to be shown up. He  
turned to Richie. "Do you know what he's talking about, Richie?"

"Haven't a clue," replied Richie, playing along.

"Gee... 'us'..." mused Duncan. 

"You know what we mean!" said the second one.

"Ah. The voice of wisdom. Who're you?"

"None of your business. In my opinion you people get what's coming  
to you." Duncan's cavalier way of dealing with the situation had made  
Ross a little bolder.

"Hmmm... want to kill me?" asked Duncan.

"No!" protested Kevin.

"No? But you killed Scott."

"Who?"

"The guy you left in pieces on the sidewalk," chipped in Richie.

Kevin tried to get up, but Duncan shoved him back into his seat.  
"Don't move until I'm finished talking to you!" he snapped. "Now, let  
me get this straight. You don't want to kill me?"

Kevin looked at the floor. "No."

"But you killed Scott."

"I'm sorry!" the teen yelled. "We were just... we didn't think  
he'd die, we..."

"We wanted to teach you people a lesson," said the third teen. 

"Dying is a pretty hard lesson," said Duncan.

By now Jonathan had lowered his sword as he looked at the three  
boys on the sofa. He saw different things in each: in Kevin, regret;  
in Ross, arrogance; and in Mark, uncertainty. And he realised that  
Duncan was right: they didn't deserve to die, not like this. They  
were young and stupid. They thought they could just hurt those who  
were different and ignore the consequences. But the consequences had  
come back to haunt them. The consequence of that act of violence had  
almost been death for all three of them.

"I'm sorry!" burst out Kevin. "We didn't mean to kill him!"

The others didn't say anything, but MacLeod could see what they  
were thinking: Ross, that 'they' didn't deserve mercy, and Mark that  
it had all gone wrong.

Duncan turned to Jonathan. "You see?"

Jonathan looked at the three. He _did_ see. "They don't know any  
better," he said.

"Maybe they do now," said Duncan. He looked at Ross. "Some never  
will. But they're young, and ignorant. And after this, maybe not as  
ignorant as before."

Richie came forward. "Let's get outta here, it smells."

Jonathan nodded.

The three Immortals left the house, not looking back.

***

Jonathan was packing, and Duncan was leaning against the wall,  
grinning. "So... where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"Your training isn't finished yet."

"I'll keep it up, I promise."

"What about the trial?"

"I'll be back for that, now that Kevin has identified his friends."

"What if they get off?"

"I'll be a good witness. They won't..." Jonathan was about to stop  
there and make his exit, but he stopped, knowing Duncan needed to  
hear more than that. And he needed to say it, too. "But if they do...  
I can live with it. They'll have to live with themselves, knowing  
they killed someone."

Duncan smiled; the way a teacher smiles when a pupil has grasped  
the lesson.

But something else bothered Jonathan. "Why didn't you say  
anything, when... when those boys called you one of 'them'?"

"Nothing they could ever say would do anything to me," Duncan  
said. "When I became Immortal, a clansman - another Immortal - found  
me, and taught me what I needed to know to survive. He also told me  
something... people who are different are feared. Our clan threw him  
out, then seventy years later they did the same to me. It doesn't matter   
what the differences are, Jonathan. To some people, any difference is   
excuse enough."

"I guess," mused Jonathan, as Richie came in.

Catching the last part of the conversation, Richie asked, "So, Mac, what   
do we do?" 

"We can hide our differences or we can show people what they are so  
they lose their fear, we can revel in being different, or we can find  
others of our kind. I've tried all of those through the centuries. Each has   
worked sometimes and not worked other times. You have to decide for   
yourself."

"Yeah." Jonathan picked up his things and looked at the other two  
Immortals. "I'll see you around."

"Don't lose your head," said Richie.

***

"That was some speech, Mac," commented Richie when Jonathan had left.  
"Have you really tried all those things - hiding what you were,  
finding other Immortals, that kind of thing?"

"Of course. Often more than one at a time."

"And do you revel in being different?"

Duncan looked at Richie with the sadness back in his eyes. "All  
I ever wanted was a normal life. I still do. But some Immortals  
don't. We are what we are, and we do what we do, even if it means  
taking the heads of others of our kind."

Duncan would have continued, but Richie got the point, so he  
interrupted. "And in the end, there can be only one."

"Whenever the end is," Duncan agreed. Then he lost his look of  
reflection and got up. "Feel like sparring?"

"You mean, you feel like torturing me."

"Whatever."

They dashed for their swords and rushed into the elevator. To be  
different again, to be Immortal. To survive.

THE END


End file.
